by P. A. Piatt
“What’s that?”
“Explosives.”
Finkle was quiet for a long second.
“Let me get dressed.”
* * *
The two men heaved the crate of explosives out of the subway and loaded it onto the police cart. Despite Fortis’ strength enhancements, the crate was heavy and awkward, and the effort left him out of breath. Dask Finkle didn’t seem fazed by it.
“A lot of years in the engine shop,” he said. “You know, you can’t take this cart on the track to the compound. It won’t make it.”
“Then we’ll break open the crate and carry it on foot,” Fortis replied. He pointed to the passenger seat. “Hop in; we have to link up with the platoon.”
Fortis and Finkle met Ystremski and the assault teams outside the door to Fenway. The sky was perceptibly lighter, so Fortis knew dawn was imminent.
“The other lads are helping the cops lock the facility down, then they’ll muster with our gear in the space port area,” the corporal reported to Fortis. He looked at Finkle and then back to Fortis. “What’s the plan, LT?”
“Finkle has agreed to lead us to the Kuiper Knights’ compound, and he donated a crate of explosives to the mission. We’ll have to hump it; there are no vehicles here that can make the trip. When we get there, we get Marx and Landis back and kill all the mercenaries. We’ll use the explosives to destroy their compound and hotfoot it back here in time to meet the transport.”
“How far is the compound?”
“Seven kilometers, give or take. The track is pretty rough,” answered Finkle.
Ystremski looked at his watch. “Run seven kilometers, kill some bad guys, make boom-boom, and run back, all in under two hours. Sounds like an easy day.” He turned to the Space Marines. “There’s a box of explosives on the back of this cart that’s coming with us. Break it down and spread it around. Cowher, Durant, grab a couple litters.” He looked at Fortis and shrugged. “We might need them.”
As they were about to move out, the door slammed open and Governor Czrk and Bob Drager came outside.
“Lieutenant Fortis! We just heard from your transport. They’re inbound and will be at the spaceport in just over ninety minutes.”
Drager pointed at Finkle. “Hey, isn’t that—”
“Yeah, it is,” Fortis replied. “Dask Finkle. He agreed to lead us to the Kuiper Knight compound.” Fortis consulted his watch and exchanged looks with Ystremski. “Ninety minutes. It’s going to be close.”
* * *
While they ran, Fortis and Ystremski peppered Finkle with questions about the mercenary compound, but there was little the resistance leader could tell them.
“I snooped around while they were building it, but I don’t know what any of the buildings are for. I haven’t been inside since they finished it. The wall is about three meters tall, and there’s one gate. I don’t remember any guard towers.”
“They have twelve men, plus Chive,” Fortis stated.
“Eleven guys, plus that prick Chive,” Ystremski corrected him. “Unless Rentz figured out how to reattach his head.”
“Touché. Still, they have pulse rifles.”
“C’mon, LT,” Ystremski laughed breathlessly. “We’ll be victorious because we’re pure of heart.”
Finkle gestured at Ystremski. “Lieutenant, do all of you have rocks in your heads, or just him?”
The Space Marines laughed but continued running.
The resistance leader also gave the Space Marines an impromptu lesson on the explosives they’d be using.
“It’s not the military-grade stuff you’re used to,” he told them. “It’s pliable so it can be shaped into cutting charges to blast rock formations. All you have to do is form the charge, stick a chemical fuse in it, and break the glass ampule inside. Once the chemicals inside mix enough the fuse turns bright green and boom!”
“What’s the time delay on the fuses?” asked Corporal Ystremski.
“Fifteen seconds, give or take.”
“Give or take?”
“Yeah. It could be five seconds or it could be forty-five seconds. It could be never.”
“That reliable, huh?”
“This stuff has been around since construction crews began building the colony. The fuses are even older. So yeah, probably.”
Ystremski snorted in disbelief, and Finkle shrugged.
“If you don’t want to use it, don’t.”
Fortis and Ystremski traded glances.
“DINLI,” they said in unison.
Thirty minutes later, Finkle waved the column to a halt and bent over, his hands on his knees.
“I gotta stop,” he panted. “It’s another klick, maybe a klick and a half. Just follow the road over that rise. You can’t miss it.”
“Hey, LT, look at this.” A knot of Space Marines were gathered on the side of the track. Fortis and Ystremski saw several bodies crumpled face-down in the dirt. The first body was clad in familiar GRC coveralls and when they rolled it over Fortis saw it was Jandahl. They examined two more; Fortis recognized the remains of Pai Choon, but the other one was unfamiliar to him.
“That’s Glenn Deale,” said Finkle. “He’s a mechanic. Was.”
“I guess we know what Chive’s been doing with our prisoners,” Ystremski said wryly.
Anger rose in Fortis’ chest and his resolve to punish the mercenary leader doubled.
“Mark the spot, and let’s go. We’re running out of time.”
Five minutes later, Fortis and Ystremski raised their heads over the sand berm concealing the assault teams and stared at the Kuiper Knights’ compound.
“Not much to it, LT. One gate, no towers.”
“I don’t see any cameras, either, though they’d be hard to spot from here.” Fortis looked at his watch. “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have time to be sneaky. What do you think?”
“We need to get a peek over that wall, but it looks like a version of what we’ve been raiding for the last week.”
The pair slid back down the berm and rejoined the men.
“Not much to it,” Fortis told the men. “Straight run for half a klick to the wall. After we get a look over the wall, we’ll attack. Questions?”
Nobody responded.
“Let’s move.”
Fortis felt naked as they dashed to the base of the compound wall. With every step he expected a salvo of plasma bolts from the mercenaries’ pulse rifles, but they never came. He made it to the relative safety of the wall unscathed and joined Ystremski.
The corporal crouched down and laced his fingers together.
“Alley-oop, sir.”
Ystremski boosted Fortis high enough to get his head and shoulders over the wall. The lieutenant had a moment of panic when he cleared the safety of the wall, but no alarm was raised. Two sentries were lounging on makeshift chairs near the front building, but they appeared to be asleep. Fortis noted a domed main building surrounded by two rows of smaller buildings and the crawler parked near the gate. The buildings were featureless and there was no indication what might be inside any of them. He didn’t see any other mercenaries besides the sentries. Satisfied, Fortis dropped back down.
“Eight buildings in two rows,” he said as he scratched the layout in the dirt. “The crawler is parked over here next to the gate, and there’s a bunch of pallets and stuff along this wall. There are two guards sitting in chairs here and here, but I think they’re asleep. I didn’t see any other mercenaries. No idea where Marx and Landis are.”
“We don’t have time to hit one building at a time, sir. If they hear us coming, we lose the element of surprise.”
Fortis thought for a second. “Okay, how about this? Assault Team One takes these four buildings and Team Two takes these four. Team One handles the sentries, quietly. After they eliminate the sentries, I’ll post up at the gate and put a charge on it. When it blows, the mercs should come running, and we shoot them as they come outside. Keep an eye out for Marx and Landis.”
Fortis dashed to the gate and inspected the lock. He broke off a fist-sized piece of explosive, flattened it into pancake, and stuck it to the gate just above the lock. He jammed two fuses into the charge to make sure at least one of them went off and waited. When Ystremski and Heisen signaled that their teams were ready, he cracked the ampules inside the fuses. One of the fuses immediately turned bright green and his memory flashed to Dask Finkle’s words: “…the fuse will turn bright green and boom!”
Oh, fuck!
Fortis lunged away from the gate a millisecond before a thunderclap exploded over his head. A wave of superheated air engulfed him and a giant invisible hand slammed him on the ground and pelted him with rocks. Blinded by dirt and deafened by the explosion, Fortis fought back as invisible assailants slapped him on the head. He heard popcorn popping while he grappled with his enemies, and he felt a satisfying crunch when his elbow made contact with his attacker’s face. His ears finally cleared with a POP! and the popcorn sound became small arms fire.
“Stop fighting!” a familiar voice shouted above the sounds of battle. Rough hands grabbed his arms and dragged him across the rocky ground. A pulse rifle round hit the wall above him and sprayed the area with bits of rock.
Fortis regained his senses and recognized Space Marine boots as they heaved him the last few meters to safety behind a stack of barrels.
Private Durant tore open a hydration back and squirted the contents into the lieutenant’s face.
“LT, can you see?”
“Yeah,” Fortis sputtered and blinked. His eyes focused on Private Cowher, who was leaning against the wall next to him with bloody hands pressed to his face. “What happened to him?”
Durant laughed. “You happened to him, sir. Your head was on fire, and when he slapped out the flames you elbowed him in the face.”
At the mention of fire, Fortis’ scalp and neck began to sting. He reached for his head, but Durant stopped him.
“Don’t touch it, sir. Let me get some flash cream on those burns.”
The gunfire sputtered until there were only scattered shots and then nothing.
“What’s happening?” Fortis struggled to sit up to see for himself, but Cowher and Durant pressed him back down.
“Take it easy, LT, we’re almost done. A quick bandage to keep this clean and you can go see for yourself.”
* * * * *
Chapter Thirty
Ystremski watched Lieutenant Fortis disappear in a flash of fire and thunder and then reappear as a flaming rag doll tumbling across the hard-packed dirt. His first instinct was to run to the injured man’s aid, but he fought it back. The door he was stationed at slammed open, and two Kuiper Knights ran out.
The corporal fired twice, and both mercenaries went down. He waited, but no one followed. He aimed carefully and delivered a kill shot to the head of each of the fallen mercenaries. He peeked inside the building, but it appeared empty.
Most of the gunfire he heard was pistols, but a stray plasma bolt sizzled past and told him there were still some live mercenaries. Ystremski holstered his pistol and retrieved one of fallen mercenary’s pulse rifles, checked the charge, and went in search of more Kuiper Knights to kill.
* * *
The massive blast saved Chive’s life.
He had finished showering when the entire compound shook. Five minutes later and he would have been dressed and gathered with the other mercenaries in the lounge area. Instead, they raced outside to investigate while Chive struggled into his clothes to the unmistakable sound of gunfire outside. One of them burst back inside as Chive was shrugging into his tunic and fastening his equipment belt.
“The colonial police are attacking!” The mercenary fumbled with the rack of pulse rifles on the wall next to the door. “There’s a hundred of them!”
“Get back out there! Go!” Chive grabbed his own rifle and pushed the man toward the door. “We have to stop them.”
A ragged fusillade of bullets tore into the mercenary, and Chive pulled up before he stepped outside. From the sound of the gunfire there were at least two shooters covering the door. He saw a shadow cross the doorway and heard a whispered conversation.
They’re coming in.
Without hesitating, Chive quietly set his rifle down and sprawled on the floor next to the dead mercenary. He swiped at the man’s blood and smeared it on his face and then turned his head in what he hoped looked like an unnatural angle. Through slitted eyes, he watched as two figures advanced into the room with their weapons at the ready. The two men moved with practiced confidence as they cleared the lounge, the bunkroom, and the showers. Chive considered making a break when they were occupied in the back of the barracks but thought better of it when he heard more shots outside.
When they finished clearing the building, one of the men prodded Chive with the toe of his boot, but the mercenary leader didn’t move.
Satisfied, the two men ran back out into the morning light.
* * *
When the Kuiper Knights had arrived at the compound, they’d dragged their Space Marine captives to the interrogation building. Dolph hung back and crawled into one of the converted ore cars. He wanted no part of whatever Chive had planned for Marx and Landis, and he’d long since lost any lingering feelings of fraternity toward his fellow mercenaries. Events had begun to swirl out of control, and the driver just wanted out.
Dolph was asleep in the back of the crawler when the massive explosion tipped the heavy vehicle, and it almost flipped before it slammed back down. The mercenary was thrown face-first against the metal benches, and the impact left him stunned. Pain exploded across his face and snapped him back to reality when his tongue probed the jagged remains of his front teeth.
He heard the familiar pop-pop-pop of gunfire, and when he lifted himself up to look out the window, he saw armed men moving from building to building and engaging the occupants.
Space Marines.
He cracked the hatch and dropped to the ground. After a quick look around, Dolph scrambled under the crawler to hide.
* * *
When the medics finished treating Fortis, he climbed to his feet and stood on wobbly legs to survey the compound. He couldn’t tell if the bodies scattered around were mercenaries or Space Marines. He was relieved when Corporal Ystremski emerged from the nearest building. He waved, and the corporal jogged over.
“Target is secure, LT. We have a hostile body count of eight, plus two prisoners. We shot one of them through the legs. The driver, Dolph, and that fucker Chive are unaccounted for, but we’re still looking.”
“Our guys?” croaked Fortis.
“No KIAs and no major injuries. Modell smashed his fingers in a door and Harrigan got hit by a pulse ricochet. They’re both on their feet.”
“Marx and Landis?”
“They’re beat up but okay. The mercenaries knocked them around pretty good when they grabbed them. It’s a good thing we got here before those bastards could start working them over for real. There’s a regular fingernail factory set up in one of the buildings. We found West in there, too. He’s in rough shape.” Ystremski motioned to his head. “What’s your status, LT? You look like you’ve been smoking a dynamite cigar.”
“Goddamn fuse was a lot less than fifteen seconds. It wasn’t even five.”
Ystremski chuckled. “Probably. Nice job on the gate, by the way.” They looked at the gaping hole where the gate once stood. “I bet you blew that sonofabitch fifty meters into the desert.”
The Space Marines arranged the bodies of the dead mercenaries in a rough line and Fortis felt a twinge of guilty satisfaction at the sight of the bouncer from the Cock and Tale.
Lance Corporal Head ran up to the two men. “Hey, LT, Corporal, we f
ound the China Mike lab. There’s a warehouse, too, and it’s full of that shit.”
“Let’s go take a look.”
* * *
As soon as he was alone, Chive rolled to his feet and retrieved his rifle. He checked that his dueling sword was still snug in the scabbard and chanced a look out the door. The compound appeared deserted, so he dashed toward some pallets and other junk the slovenly mercenaries had piled next to the wall. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks for their laziness as he boosted himself up to vault over the wall.
He rolled over the top and dropped down outside the compound, but he lost his grip on the rifle and it fell back inside the wall.
“Shit!”
Chive landed in a crouch and searched the surrounding desert for any threats. The suddenness of the attack and the loss of his rifle left him feeling vulnerable, and he was certain the attackers were not colonial police.
Space Marines.
He weighed his options as he hunkered down next to the wall. He knew his current hiding place was temporary. If the Space Marines took a body count they would realize they were one body short and Fortis would know he was the missing mercenary.
His long-term prospects on Eros-28 weren’t good. Even after the Space Marines departed, he couldn’t return to Fenway, and he couldn’t stay out in the desert forever.
In retrospect, murdering Chief Schultz had been a foolish and impulsive act. Had Chive not killed the corpulent cop, he could have hidden out until the Space Marines departed and then emerged from the desert with a plausible—if not entirely believable—story. Czrk would accept almost anything to avoid a controversy that could reflected badly on him.
Now, if he turned himself over to Governor Czrk and the colonial police, he’d be fortunate to survive the eight weeks to face the colonial circuit judge. He wouldn’t find any help in the dusty streets of Boston. Even if he somehow succeeded sneaking into Fenway, it was impossible to stow away on one of the supply shuttles that visited Eros-28.